


Bulitt

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Missions, Movie Reference, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: Alex rests his leg on the couch and adjusts the straps that wrap around his thigh. Unfairly high on it if Michael’s being honest.“Earth to Michael. Are you paying attention?” Alex questions.“Antar to Alex, reading you loud and clear,” Michael says, a little more sarcastically than he intends.





	Bulitt

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt: sp-ac-ep-re-si-de-nt asked: Malex fic where Alex has a thigh holster. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since I saw it on roswellnmprompts. Also I need something not depressing after this ep.

Eventually, the grief lessens its chokehold.

Michael almost wants to snatch it back as it does. He wants to crawl into the hole that he’s hidden in, wants to wrap himself back in the barbed love. He doesn’t want to get better. Not really. Not if it means losing another part of himself that says he had a family. A mom. He clutches at it with all of his good fingers but it slips away. The acceptance settles over him and eventually he has to shuffle out. He doesn’t have to but he doesn’t have much of a choice. It’s lonely in the hole. No matter how much wine and science Isobel and Liz bring to him. Baby steps eventually find him on Alex’s couch, tossing the ball for his beagle as he gets ready for some super secret operation Michael isn’t a part of.

“I can’t believe you’re making me stay at home,” he snaps, “your dog is self sufficient.”

“We’ve been over this,” Alex says, “your recovery is more important,” he comes around the corner, “you don’t have to like it.”

“Good,” Michael snaps, “quit glaring at me. Isn’t one of you supposed to be doing puppy eyes?”

He looks over at Alex and nearly gives himself whiplash. It’s dark out so naturally Alex is in black cargos and a black turtleneck. He looks like some kind of 1940s spy. Michael remembers those old black and white movies one of his foster families used to put on. But his hair is spikey and not slicked back and it’s kind of fucking with him. Alex doesn’t notice as he threads his belt and does up, of all things, a thigh holster. Michael feels his mouth go dry. It’s not like sex has been much of a priority and a grief filled quickie—he didn’t want that with Alex. Not anymore. Alex rests his leg on the couch and adjusts the straps that wrap around his thigh. Unfairly high on it if Michael’s being honest.

“Earth to Michael. Are you paying attention?” Alex questions.

“Antar to Alex, reading you loud and clear,” Michael says, a little more sarcastically than he intends. Alex gives him a look, “what?” He says, “alien can’t space out?”

Alex does that thing where he rolls his eyes and makes that scoff Michael hasn’t heard him make in a long ass time. He drops his leg and bends to the dogs level. Michael watches, admittedly a little at his form but also at how smoothly he moves. He missed that somewhere in his grief. Alex barely favors his missing leg side. The beagle whines and rolls and he shifts his weight to get at her stomach. He glances over at him and Michael can’t stop the faint smile that comes on his lips.

“You look good,” he says. Alex glares, “i’m not trying to get to go on your super secret mission!”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” Michael says.

Alex straightens with the same ease and it’s super not fair. He walks over and stands in front of Michael who now wishes he hadn’t undone all his work on the spaceship so he could fly himself into the sun. Alex looks at him hard for a moment, then relaxes fractionally. He glances down at his wristwatch and Michael narrowly avoids a beagle jumping on a sensitive part of his anatomy.

“I have to—“

“Yeah yeah,” Michael says.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he continues.

“Oh joy,” Michael says.

“There’s a lot of cold water in the showe—hey!” The pillow wacks him seemingly of its own accord, “i’m going. Both of you behave.”

“Only til you get back!” Michael shouts as Alex leaves.

He attempts to distract himself. Alex ran off but like on a regular mission. He’ll be back. He plays with the dog and takes her on an extra long walk which has her loving him even more. He does not take a cold shower but he may poke in the bedroom just to make sure if things happen they’re ready. He’s aimlessly flicking through the channels and cementing his reign as the dog’s favorite human when the lock turns. Alex steps in and Michael gives him a once over for any major injuries. Aside from some dark smudges on his face though, he looks fine. Good. Damn good.

“You save the world?” He asks.

Alex hesitates only a moment, looking at him like he’s trying to decipher something. Concentration has always looked adorable on him and Michael scrubs across his face before pushing himself up and walking over.

“I don’t want to rush this?” Alex says and it comes out as more of a question. Michael grips his arm, like he did in the desert and Alex lets out the same kind of shuddering breath, “Michael—“

Michael kisses him.

It’s like a rocket goes off and they can’t get deep enough. He pushes Alex against the door as Alex hauls him closer by his shirt. Michael braces himself with an arm against the door and Alex gets his hands under his shirt. Michael makes a noise he’s not sure he has since they were touch starved teenagers. Alex grinds down on the leg he gets between his and Michael thinks he might be losing his mind.

“Bed—bedroom,” Alex stutters out as Michael works on his neck, thumbing down his turtleneck, “Michael. The dog—“ Michael swears and glances at the beagle who looks apprehensive.

“Don’t worry. Daddy’s fine,” he says, enjoying the distressed noise Alex makes as he lets his head fall back against the door, “bedroom it is. You stay,” he adds and flicks the remote to animal planet.

He drags Alex or maybe Alex drags him but the second they’re in, Michael grabs his turtleneck and pulls it off, throwing it aside before his own shirt follows it.  They kiss again and for the first time when Michael’s fingers skim the marks on his body, the desire to grab his shirt is only fleeting. He presses into Michael instead. They stand there kissing for a long time. Too long. Eventually Michael pushes him back onto the bed and Alex pulls him down no top of him. Michael pins his hips and presses against him and Alex feels like he’d cut his other leg off for friction. He rocks his head back, panting for air as Michael leans over him, some of the ash on his nose from Alex’s face.

“You’ve got—“ he reaches up and wipes the smudge off, pausing only long enough to realize how fucking badly he needs this, “my stuff’s in the drawer,” he says.

“Got it already,” Michael tells him, a smugness in his tone that makes Alex try to get his hips up even though Michael’s got a hand on his pelvis.

Michael undoes the holster and Alex’s pants and tugs them off his hips. The prosthetic was replaced months ago with one that’s a dark grey and impossibly sleek. Michael imagines he’s not supposed to find it as hot as he does. But he strokes it, settling his hand at the seam where metal and Alex meet. Alex full on whines before rocking his head back again. His own hand fumbles down his thigh but Michael grabs it and kisses his knuckles before undoing his leg and pulling it off. Like he’s watched Alex do a million times. When he gets close enough Alex pulls him by his belt loops and opens up his pants, shoving them and his underwear down in one go. There’s something nice about seeing Alex as desperate as he feels. But nothing’s as nice as when Alex wraps his hand around him and Michael lets his head fall against Alex’s shoulder. 

“Fuck,” he swears, forgetting how good Alex is, “fuck, okay, okay—“

He grabs the supplies and then it’s all curses and sensations and sounds. Michael’s never been, but the rawness of this must be what flying is like. He’s so used to looking over his shoulder or going as quick as he can with Alex that the fact there’s two doors between them and the rest of the world lets him go as slow as he can. Which isn’t very since it’s been months and while he’s not upset they waited, his body is definitely on board with fucking Alex like this. And in several other ways until they’re both collapsed on the bed half on top of each other, gasping in the silence of the room.

“Wow,” Alex gets out finally and Michael experiences pride for the first time in a very very long time, “what the hell brought that on.”

“Bulitt,” Michael says, “old action movie one of my foster families would watch. Steve McQueen was wearing a black turtleneck.”

Alex looks over at him.

“You figured out you were bi watching a Steve McQueen movie?” Michael nods. Alex is silent for a moment, “I’ve got a shoulder holster.”


End file.
